


Cure My World

by Taste_of_Suburbia



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Community: femslashficlets, Confessions, Demon/Human Relationships, Dreams, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, Friendship, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Romance, Supernatural Femslash Bingo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-07
Updated: 2015-11-07
Packaged: 2018-04-30 12:51:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5164478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Taste_of_Suburbia/pseuds/Taste_of_Suburbia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There was a part of Bela that always assumed Ruby knew, inherently, like all demons perhaps did. Or maybe that word traveled fast among demons. She didn’t expect Ruby not to care, but to Ruby it also didn’t matter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cure My World

**Author's Note:**

> Written for femslashficlets for prompt #032 (hurt/comfort). Why oh why did they have to pick my favorite prompt ever? Did they not think I was gonna go crazy? 
> 
> Also a fill on my SPN Femslash Bingo card for the prompt “You Never Asked Me.”
> 
>  **Soundtrack:** Title and lyrics are from Tomcraft’s ‘Loneliness’

_Happiness seems to be loneliness_

_And loneliness cured my world_

_How could you guess when you_ _’re only_

_Thinking of yourself and how you_

_Looked at other girls~_

* * *

It makes sense that there would be dreams of hell; it’s where she’s going after all. The long, dark road down after death. It’s not worth torturing herself, lingering on it, yet in some ways it’s the only thing she should be thinking about.

There are images slicing through her head like razorblades, though the disorientation and phantom agony subsides relatively quickly. It’s the same image every time, appearing through thick, red mist: a forked tongue swiping across full, parted lips.

It could just be her consciousness throwing things into her dreams again.

The demon who calls herself Ruby has the same lips, perfectly normal tongue flicking across them, like a snake. The way she moves is snakelike too, the way her body curls up against Bela’s, legs sliding across the silk sheets, eyes effortlessly piecing together every inch of Bela’s skin as she reaches it and forming a whole picture. It makes Bela feel wanted, strangely. There is Bela folding herself underneath Ruby and the suspicion that she is doing it too well, or that Ruby is covering her up on purpose, eager to bring her to hell before her due date.

Bela doesn’t know why she does this. Sleeping with the enemy. Except Ruby isn’t truly her enemy. She’s not Lilith, not the one who holds the deal on her soul. And she still feels wanted, here, now.

She’ll forsake all reasoning and temporary self-preservation for happiness, in the end.

***

She still craves to be alone, and at the worst times too. When she’s vulnerable, when she needs _not_ to be alone. When all she can do is _push_ , push away.

Ruby is a surefire way of Bela never getting what she thinks she needs. She mocks Bela, taunts her, looms over her as if she has no concept of personal space. There is the bloody mess of Bela’s ticking down life, and there is the surety of Ruby. Bela would bleed if Ruby cut her, Bela is bleeding on the inside now. Ruby’s every look bleeds curiosity, but her every move screams routine. Bela is not the first girl, with the demon’s confidence bleeding into the carefulness.

She might not even be the first decaying girl.

Ruby may know the intricacies of her soul, but she doesn’t _know_ Bela.

She only has ninety-six days, ten hours and twenty-four minutes left to show her.

***

“You never asked me,” Bela says. Ruby’s eyes settle on her contentedly, lacking darkness. It is lying beneath the surface, but there is no flash of black to darken her mood. “You never asked me why I did it.”

Ruby rolls her eyes at the question. “I don’t need to ask. Humans sell their souls for the same things: money, sex, power, pride. It’s all an endless loop. Besides, it’s not my job to collect the souls, or gather them in the first place. Luckily,” she adds, pulling her blonde hair back behind her shoulder, eyes narrowing at Bela expectantly.

There was a part of Bela that always assumed Ruby knew, inherently, like all demons perhaps did. Or maybe that word traveled fast among demons. She didn’t expect Ruby not to care, but to Ruby it also didn’t matter. She wanted Bela’s last months anyway. “I didn’t do it for the money,” Bela admits bitterly, wishing she could bite back her words. “It was a plus, but it wasn’t the endgame.”

“Then what?”

“Their deaths,” Bela admits. She feels numb, too numb to be having this conversation. “They were horrible people. But of course, who am I to judge?”

Ruby brushes Bela’s hair back, deft fingers working out the tangles. “You’re the only one who can, actually.”

They sit there on the bed quietly. Bela looks down at her hands, trying to will literal blood into existence, the blood of her parents. She knows Ruby is looking at her, but she also knows the demon doesn’t expect anything this time. “How about we go take a bath?” Ruby’s finger catches on a bad tangle and Bela bites her lip, hard enough to draw blood. Ruby wipes the trickle of red away with her finger, popping it into her mouth like it’s candy. “I can work on your hair some, and we can talk about things while we’re soaking. Or not. Your preference.”

Something caves inside Bela then, causing her to pull forward and wrap arms around her stomach, hot tears spilling onto the sheets. She almost gags on the words. “I’m sorry.”

“Hey now,” Ruby places both hands on her shoulders. Even though Bela is looking down at the sheets, she can trace every line of Ruby’s face as she smiles. There’s nothing demonic about it, not even behind her eyes. Even though she’s stealing a human body without permission, it’s still Ruby. And Bela _needs_ this. “It’ll look prettier in the morning, sweet cakes. You gonna trust me on this?”

Bela chokes out a laugh and nods, her shoulders aching and her heart shuddering like it’s been trampled on.

Maybe in hell this won’t be loneliness, but a memory. 

**FIN**


End file.
